


In the light of the morning we could be good

by BehindBrokenWindows



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Consulting Criminal, Dirty Talk, Domestic Bliss, Fluff and Smut, Gay Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Morning Cuddles, Morning Sex, Murder Husbands, Romantic Fluff, True Love, mormor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-14
Updated: 2017-05-14
Packaged: 2018-10-31 16:18:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10902963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BehindBrokenWindows/pseuds/BehindBrokenWindows
Summary: He would never admit it, of course, but mornings like these, splayed on the couch with Sebastian behind him and a plate of Mrs Turner's cookies in front of them, still warm from the oven, was Jim's favourite type of mornings.





	In the light of the morning we could be good

There was something utterly peaceful about a Sunday afternoon when you had nothing to do. When you'd only gotten out of bed to move to the couch, naked as the day you were born. There was a cup of tea on the table, but it was turning cold. There was no sound, and the only movements came from the muted TV and the dust dancing in the air, illuminated like tiny snowflakes in the sun's sepia painting of the room.

They were spooning on the couch, a blanket spread over their legs and hips. Jim's hair, the only colour too dark for the sepia light, was tickling Sebastian's face, but he didn't mind. He was tracing tiny patterns on Jim's hip and listened to his slow breathing. He could have been sleeping, but Sebastian knew he wasn't. He always knew when Jim was focusing on him, it was like a pull in his gut, nudging him closer until they were touching and closer still. He moved his hips back slowly and pushed in again with careful precision. Slow, steady movements. It wasn't particularly warm in the room, but with their bodies pressed so close together they were perfectly comfortable.

Sebastian pressed himself closer to the smaller man and kissed the soft skin on his neck, pulling some into his mouth to nibble carefully on it.

"Mrs Turner is coming up the stairs," the Irishman muttered sleepily. A few seconds later, Sebastian heard her steps on the stairs and smiled.

"Psychic." He felt the Irishman grin. Sebastian stopped the movements of his hips, but stayed inside to prevent going entirely soft. He pulled the blanket higher as their door opened and the old, round lady shuffled inside.

"Oh, sorry boys. I just thought I should bring you some tea and biscuits, thought you'd be tired today. There's been a lot of work lately, hasn't there? You're barely ever here anymore." Of course, she didn't know that Sherlock Holmes had finally brought down the cabbie, and they had to get ready for the next round. She knew nothing of what they were doing for a living. She still thought Jim was teaching at the university.

"Thank you, Mrs Turner, you're a saint," Sebastian said and smiled at the woman that had grown so fond of them, and that they depended on more than they'd ever let on.

She smiled at them in her motherly way and shook her head before she returned downstairs. Newlyweds.

"Want a biscuit?" Jim asked, and Sebastian circled his arm around Jim's waist when he reached towards the table so that he wouldn't slip out of him. Jim handed him a biscuit and bit down on one of his own. They were delicious.

"What would we do without her?" Sebastian muttered.

"We'd probably be dead long ago. Starvation, or possibly drowned in dust. Imagine the headlines." They chuckled.

Sebastian resumed his languid hip movements and took Jim's erection in his hand to get back his previous hardness. It worked well and soon he was sliding effortlessly in and out again.

"Why do we never have sex like this? We should have sex like this more often."

"We don't have the time."

"But it's nice, it's so..." Jim frowned.

"Intimate?" The Irishman nodded and Sebastian buried his face in his neck as a warm feeling spread through him. Secretly, he loved when Jim showed sentiment, but he almost never did. Sebastian didn't either, for that matter. "I thought you liked me rough?" he said with the hint of a growl. His pace picked up marginally.

"I do, I –"

"I thought you liked it when I press you into the backseat of the car, or cuff your hands to the headboard of our bed. I thought you liked it when I fuck you with blood still on my hands, blood streaked in my hair." Jim shivered.

"Oh god." Sebastian tightened his fist around Jim's cock.

"I thought you liked it when I take you and make you mine until you scream my name into the night." Jim's hair was so soft, and Sebastian buried his nose in it, taking in the familiar scent of his shampoo and Jim and home. Sebastian was home, and he hadn't been home since he was seven, but now he was and it was too much to process. He wanted to become one with the man beside him, to never leave this room again, to be here and now and always together.

"I do," Jim's voice was strained, breathy, like talking was too much effort, demanded too much brainwork.

Arousal was rising in Sebastian at an alarming rate, but he forced himself to keep his pace steady and calculated, long, deep movements. He placed his mouth back on Jim's neck and the man hummed in appreciation.

"Marry me," Jim said.

"I already did that."

"Marry me again." Sebastian chuckled and his rhythm faltered and his movements got harder, a bit faster, seeking... something. Like there was a movement at the corner of your eye and you turn to see what it was, but every time you did, you found nothing, so you turned again, faster, seeking... whatever it was that called you.

"I thought you liked it, when you ride me on your desk at the university, or when you suck me under the table at an especially dark and filthy pub. I thought you liked it when I pull your hair and lock your arms behind your back and pound you into the mattress." Jim's breathing came in short, rapid gasps every time Sebastian sunk down to the hilt.

"I thought you liked it, when I use bad words and call you slut as I make you mine..." Sebastian could no longer stop his hand from making short process of Jim's ability to hold back, or stop his hips from making short process of his own. His thighs were trembling with the strain from going so slowly for so long, but also with his approaching climax, he could feel it building inside him.

"But maybe you like it better..." He slurred around the words and closed his eyes to better feel, to feel every tremor and hear every gasp from the man underneath him, to catalogue the sensation of his skin under his palm. There was a tightening in his groin, and a tightening around his shaft.

"When I tell you I love you." Jim arched his back and went still just as Sebastian reached as deep inside him as he could and fell over the edge, shuddering around wave after wave of pleasure as it rolled through him.

Jim loved the sight of Seb when he came inside him. His eyes were closed and his mouth was open, uttering silent moans of pleasure that only Jim could hear. He loved how he looked like the incarnation of all that was good in the world, golden hair that reflected golden light, messy like a lion's mane as it framed his face. His eyes were an honest blue, and his mouth was kind and he looked younger than he was if you could ignore the scar that traced the entire left side of his face like a crack in an otherwise perfect piece of art.

Yes, Jim loved him, and he'd never let him go because in this moment he felt love like a physical presence, taking form between them in the sepia light of the morning, shaping and folding around them, visible to anyone who cared to look, and he didn't want it to go.

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a scene in a book I started about them but never actually got around to finishing, still I thought this particular scene was so cute I had to publish it anyway!
> 
> Thoughts?
> 
> Thank you so much for reading!


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